


come on, baby, the laugh's on me

by defcontwo



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Commander Beard Rogers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 01:53:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1670381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defcontwo/pseuds/defcontwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Can Captain America have a beard? Is that allowed? I'm pretty sure that's against Boy Scout regulations."</p>
            </blockquote>





	come on, baby, the laugh's on me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stitchingatthecircuitboard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stitchingatthecircuitboard/gifts).



> Uh. The shameless result of countless conversations about the Commander Rogers uniform, beards and beard burn. It's all outta love, Stitch.

It started at the Grand Canyon. 

Because really, of course it did. 

The starry night sky rose high and bright above them, the two of them huddled into the bed of a pickup truck, music playing softly from the truck radio. 

Bucky lights up another cigarette, inhaling, the sharp acrid scent rising up around them as he pillows his head on the metal arm. "Y'know, I think I thought it'd be bigger." 

"What, your big lug of a head?" 

Bucky huffs a laugh, a small sound that's starting to come easier with each passing day. "No, ya big dumb punk. The Grand Canyon." 

"You think the Grand Canyon should be bigger?" Steve says, not chancing a sideways glance, letting the curl of his lips, the dryness in his voice do all his work for him. "What next, Sergeant, you gonna tell me the Moon Landing's a hoax?" 

"Yep," Bucky says, popping the p. "Area 51's total nonsense too. Not aliens. Actually big fuckin' monsters from beneath the surface of the earth. HYDRA says so." 

Steve stills, unsure how to react and he hates this and loves it at the same time, hates that Bucky is a language that he has to re-learn all over again, only to find that all the grammar rules have gotten switched up on him, that the syntax's gotten all out of order even if the dialect still sounds the same. 

But he loves it, loves it all the same because re-learning Bucky means Bucky is here with him, smoking shitty cheap cigarettes and losing some of the tension in his shoulders that's been there since the war, loves it because it means that he's not dead at the bottom of a ravine, not wandered so far away in his mind anymore that Steve can't follow him. 

A nudge to the ribs shakes Steve out of his thoughts. "That was a joke, Rogers. If I can't joke about my shitty life, who can, right?" 

Steve eases up but slings an arm around Bucky anyways, drawing him in closer, tucking him just beneath his chin. "You think you're so fuckin' funny, Buck." 

"Know I'm funny," Bucky says, stubbing out the cigarette on the side of the truck, letting it drop into the corner to pick up later. "Geez, Stevie, when'd you get so itchy? I remember a day when you could barely get so much as a single hair on your chin and now you're gonna give me a goddamn rash with that thing." 

Steve lifts a hand up, running it across the beard he's let grow in the past month. On the road, it didn't seem to matter so much. He'd forgotten to pack a razor and the cheap plastic ones from the convenience store barely did the trick, so it didn't seem worth the effort. "I'll have to shave when we get back to New York." 

Bucky shrugs and they both move with it. "Hey, don't have to if you don't want to. I never said I didn't like it. " 

Bucky hums, tilting his head up to meet Steve's gaze and there's a story there, a story that Steve's pretty sure he knows the ending to, the kind of story that makes him clear his throat even though he ain't nervous, it's sure as hell not their first dance, and he idly shifts a hand beneath the hem of Bucky's t-shirt, thumb rubbing concentric circles into rough, scarred skin. 

"Oh yeah?" 

"You gonna make me spell it out, Rogers? I know how you blush," Bucky says and there's more that could be said, probably, but Steve's done talking, finally closes the distance and Bucky (still) tastes like smoke and cheap beer and maybe their syntax hasn't changed as much as he thinks. 

\- 

Sam gets one look at him and crosses his arms over his chest, letting out a snort. "I leave you alone for a month and you turn into some kind of hipster lumberjack." 

Natasha just smirks knowingly. 

"Tell Barnes I can give him moisturizer recommendations." 

Steve turns bright red and decides there's some things about Natasha and Bucky's friendship that he doesn't need to know. 

\- 

"Can Captain America have a beard? Is that allowed? I'm pretty sure that's against Boy Scout regulations." 

"Shut up, Stark." 

\- 

Steve's got a new suit, now, one that looks almost just like his old SHIELD uniform except for the thin strips of red running down his legs and arms and it feels like the right kind of compromise.

He's not in that place, anymore, clawed his way out of it with the help of good friends and so many miles underneath his bike, but he can't be the guy draped in the bright, unblemished flag anymore, either. 

"What'd you think?" Steve asks, holding both arms out wide. 

Bucky drops his cup of coffee and it's only by the grace of his quick reflexes that he catches it half a second later, but not before half of it gets sloshed across their living room floor. "Shit, warn a guy, would you?" 

"What a waste of good coffee," Steve says, faking his best 'Captain America is disappointed in you' frown but Bucky just laughs, immune to it, before setting the coffee mug on the kitchen counter. 

"Please, your coffee's only a couple of steps above mud water and you know it, Steve." Bucky hooks his thumbs through belt loops, takes a step back and makes a show of it, eyes gone dark, hooded gaze raking Steve from top to bottom. "Yeah, I guess I'll take ya." 

"Oh, you guess, huh?" There's warmth curling in his gut and he's meant to report into Maria Hill in an hour to discuss strategies but Steve's thinking maybe he's not exactly gonna make it there on time. "And where'd you like me, soldier?" 

Bucky quirks an eyebrow. 

"On your knees, for a start." 

(He's over an hour late, flushed and hair unrepentantly sex-mussed. Maria keeps looking over at him and biting back a laugh and Steve can't even find it in him to be embarrassed). 

\- 

The next day, there's a jar of moisturizer on their front steps. 

Natasha is a terrible, _terrible_ friend.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] come on, baby, the laugh's on me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8400085) by [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




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